


What Is Lost May Not Want to be Found

by SajoWrites



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, ReverseOmens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29484081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SajoWrites/pseuds/SajoWrites
Summary: Reverse!Omens.After answering an obscure advert regarding a room for rent, Anthony discovers the flat is located above a bookstore owned by the demon, Ezra. Will this boarding arrangement help or hinder Anthony? After all, he’s been hiding from Heaven for the past 6000 years.Through each other, a demon and angel will learn to move forward from the trauma imprinted on them from Heaven’s wrath.This is my first Fanfic. I hope you all enjoy. PlsR&R
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	1. A Single Sentence Advert

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. Welcome to my first, ever, fanfic. This is an idea I've been sitting on for some time and I hope you all enjoy it. I'd like to start by thanking my two beta readers, Charlie and Stephanie for helping me with this.

Single room flat for rent. 

That and an address was all that was posted. No name or number to contact, no price and no further details than what had already been stated. So why Anthony was so captivated by it was beyond all comprehension. He stepped off the bus and made his way down the cobblestone street lined with various shops and commercial traffic, each step cracking his confidence that he was heading in the correct direction until he came across the address listed in the advert. It was not an apartment complex or even a home but rather a large bookstore that towered before him. Anthony stood before it, a confused expression painted on his face and the single sentence ad in his hand, growing damp from nervous sweat. 

An old brass bell announced his arrival as he swung the door open. The place was covered in books from floor to ceiling, stacked nearly as tall as the building itself it seemed in some places and shelves lined the walls, creating nearly endless rows of paths that one could easily get lost in. Carefully, he set foot inside, the sole of his shoe making a perfect imprint on the dust covered floor and creating a cloud of time and neglect in its wake. The air was musty and eerily still. Whoever the shop owner was should have heard the bell ring upon his arrival and greeted him as was customary to keep good business but other than himself, the building appeared to only be inhabited by countless, dusty tomes.

"Hello?" Anthony called out, his voice bouncing off the multiple surfaces and echoing throughout. Given how such a simple announcement of one's presence seemed to have immeasurable strength among the stillness, Anthony gently shut the door behind him but even the gentle clicking had a heaviness to it. After all that, there still appeared to be no acknowledgement of his presence in the shop so Anthony ventured in further, careful not to bump into anything lest the whole place came crashing down on him. Hidden amongst the books were some more personal items; an antique lamp, a writing desk whose wooden corners had been worn away with use and an old mirror, tarnished by time and neglect. He caught his reflection in its surface and examined himself. His yellow tinted glasses hung skewed on his face, revealing the slightest glimpse of one natural eye and its otherworldly golden colour. The warm sun had made his freckles more pronounced on this day, especially around the arch of his hooked nose and a curled strand of copper hair had escaped its place behind his ear. Usually he could capture every lock in a neat braid or ponytail but a few strands would always wriggle their way free as the day progressed. Dust had fallen on the shoulder of his cream jumper and Anthony was quick to brush the offending dirt away.

"What are you doing here?" A deep voice came from behind him and Anthony nearly leaped out of his skin, startled by the sudden presence of another being in the seemingly empty building. He was so preoccupied with brushing away the dust from his clothes, he must not have heard the shopkeeper walk up on him. 

"I'm sorry," he rushed to apologize and turned on his heel to face the other. Whatever words that were going to come out next were stolen from his throat and a felt an overwhelming sense of dread wash over him in a violent, cold wash. The man that stood before him was unlike the place he inhabited. He was a properly dressed gentleman for one plucked straight out of the Edwardian period. A deep, grey suit with an underlying base of indigo covered his stout frame from head to toe, with a prominent, purple cravat tucked into his dress shirt and pinned by a decorative deep, royal purple gem framed in silver. His black-grey hair was tied back in a sleek, short pony tail and his beard, though bushy and pronounced, was well trimmed. A single white curl streaked down from the crown of his head, slightly to the right. But it was the stranger's eyes that struck the deep, seeded chord of fear throughout Anthony's being. The man's eyes were inhuman; not just their lilac colour, but the pupils mirrored those of a goat. The similarities to the beastly were made ever more prevalent by the silver, rams' head shaped handle of his cane, the very cane that was raised up to Anthony's face and used to lift his chin as the stranger approached him for a better look. The eerie silence that had unsettled Anthony before would rival that of a cheering crowd compared to the stillness of sound and time that hung between the two men now as they stood staring each other down in recognition of what the other was.

It was clear to Anthony that this man was a demon and did not belong in the human world but he feared the stranger would come to the same conclusion about himself.  
It was the snatching of the advert from his fingertips that broke him out of his paralyzed state. The stranger looked down at the paper and snapped his eyes back to Anthony repeatedly, seemingly trying to put the two together all the while keeping his ram's head handle pressed firmly under Anthony's chin. 

"Ah, you've come for the room," the stranger smiled, his demeanor changing instantaneously and playfully pulled his cane away from Anthony's person as if the action before was made in good jest. "Forgive me, I thought you were here to steal one of my many, precious books but even I can be a terrible judge of character at times." The shop owner turned his back and began to walk away from his guest before promptly stopping and looking over his shoulder and gesturing for the other to follow him. Collecting himself, Anthony nearly stumbled over his own feet and a few discarded books and items lying on the ground before catching up to the strange man. 

"Yes," Anthony cleared his throat and followed the man throughout the shop, weaving through shelves and cleared pathways, "I was actually uncertain for a moment if I was in the right place. The ad didn't mention anything about it being inside a bookstore, or mention anything at all for that matter."

"And why should it matter?" the shop owner took a sharp turn, seemingly entertaining himself with his guest's attempts to make sense of his actions and where they were going. "All you needed to know was listed - a single room for rent and the address at which it find it. Everything else is secondary. And surely it held enough information to attract you to this place so I'd say it did everything it was intended to accomplish." 

"Can I at least get a look at the room before I decide if it's right for me? You can't just assume because it caught my eye, I will take it," Anthony recounted and getting irritated with the constant swerving, weaving and traveling through the labyrinth of books and shelves. 

"But you will take the room, why else would you have come here?" the stranger shook his cane. 

"Don't be preposterous," Anthony growled, "that is the most daft reasoning I have ever heard and where are we going? We've been walking in circles for far too long. If you won't just simply show me the room then I will just take my leave and I'll be done dealing with you and your queer mannerisms. Talking and walking around in riddles is a waste of my time." Anthony flew his hands up in the air and turned a sharp corner but was stopped by the hard press of a the stranger's cane across his chest. 

"Be careful where you tread, angel," the man's voice was deep, dark and dripping with warning. Anthony's breath caught in his throat when he heard what the other had called him. It was foolish to believe that a demon would not be able to sniff him out on sight. Slowly, Anthony turned his gaze to the shop owner and once more their unworldly eyes locked. 

"Yes, I know what you are. Which is why you need to be careful where you walk in this place," the man's voice was calm as he nodded in the direction where Anthony had intended to venture down. "The books down there are all grimoires. Dark magic contained in each one to trap and harm angels. If you had set foot down that path, I could only imagine what would have happened." Slowly and with purpose, the demon retracted his cane from Anthony's person once more, but his eyes never left the angel's. 

"Who are you?" Anthony whispered, shaken and breathless. 

"A demon, as you already have deduced. But you may call me Aziraphale."

"Aziraphale? You've kept your angelic name?"

"Call me Ezra if you prefer. Now, come this way, angel. I'll show you to the room."

At last, they approached the base of a winding staircase. With Ezra leading the way, Anthony followed in silence, keeping his eyes on the man's back until they reached the very top where a small landing and a single door greeted them. Anthony looked down from the railing and his eyes grew wide at the sight below of the labyrinth they had ventured through. Shelves and stacks of books winding and turning into a delicate pattern of organized chaos, one in which only the owner knew its true meaning and purpose but judging from its design, it was some kind of sigil to keep this place hidden from anyone who had ill intentions of finding it or the demon who resided within. 

"Are you coming in?" Ezra's voice drew Anthony's attention away from the view below. He was holding the door open, patiently waiting for the angel to step inside to inspect the room. Anthony feared it would be just a dark and dusty as the rest of the building but he owed the demon the courtesy after being so insistent before. 

A peek inside and Anthony gasped. The room was certainly large enough to house him and his earthly possessions but it was the sheer number of windows lining the walls that captivated him. Natural light flooded the flat, lighting up every inch of it and the heat of the sun was welcoming and warm. Anthony couldn't help himself but to stand in the middle of it and close his eyes, basking in its warm embrace. Yes, this was perfect. 

Ezra remained silent, pleasantly watching the angel aglow in the sunlight that flooded the flat before he could no longer contain his pleasure, "I told you you were going to take the room."

Anthony turned to face him, the light dancing across his copper curls and the freckles glittering like flecks of gold across his face. Now it was Ezra's turn to be at a loss for words at the utter beauty before him. 

"I'm afraid to ask how much rent is. I can't offer much," Anthony solemnly replied.

"None," Ezra was quick to answer. "No money will be exchanged between us but I will make a deal with you."

The demon slowly approached the angel, the soft clicking of his cane accompanying his footsteps until he came to a complete stop. "This room is yours as long as none of your angel buddies set foot into my shop or interfere with my work."

"What is your work?" Anthony raised an eyebrow, naturally suspicious of what the demon was suggesting.

"As you had learned earlier, this shop possesses many grimoires and various other books of magic and on the occult. I serve a very specialized clientele and I can't have any holy interference if I am to keep myself in good standing with the opposing forces," he made the last part poignant by tapping the floor twice with the base of his cane. 

As an angel, the knowledge of that didn't sit well with him but humans were creatures of free will. However, something about this deal Ezra was proposing benefitting him in more ways than just supplying a perfectly suited flat rent free. "Alright," Anthony nodded and extended his hand, "no angelic interference." 

A smirk curled the corner of Ezra's lips, lifting his hand to take the angel's before stopping short. "Of course, I think it's only fair I know your name before we seal this deal."

"Anthony. Anthony J. Crowley."

Ezra let out a breathy chuckle and gripped the angel's hand, sealing the deal. "An angel with a human name. How interesting."


	2. Moving House

"A moving van?"

"I'll help move things around in the shop," Anthony replied, flipping through an aged phone book and looking up movers by alphabetical order, his slender finger caressing the surface of the paper as it made its way down the list. "I don't want the movers bumping into anything of value or disturbing things while they bring my belongings to the flat." 

Ezra shook his head, baffled by the mentioning of movers and going through the fuss of tidying things up. "Why don't you just miracle your things to appear instead of going through all the hassle of human interference. It's so mundane and cumbersome."  
"Where's the fun in doing everything the easy way?" Anthony explained and pointed to the antique candlestick phone sitting on the demon's reading desk. "May I?"

"Fun? Satan help me if that's your idea of fun. Yes, yes, go right ahead," Ezra huffed and shook his head, cradling it in his hand in a feeble attempt to understand this curious angel. 

"I just think if you're going to be living amongst humans you should adapt their methods." Finding the number of a moving company in Soho, Anthony fingered away at the rotary phone, the spinning mechanism clicking and whirling with every turn of its face. "Where's the harm in experiencing the trials and tribulations of their short lives and with moving being such a large part of everyday life, I'd say you should try it at least once." 

"But must you have this experience in my bookshop?" Ezra exclaimed only to be hushed by the angel raising a finger and shaking his head as the phone rang before being picked up on the other end.

Flustered, the demon raised his hands and left the angel in peace, humoring him with his idiotic fantasies of doing things the human way. No magic involved. He could understand it if it was something as simple as bringing well-packed picnic basket to a rolling hillside but this was moving house. An exhausted groan poured past his lips, raising a hand to run down his face to rest at his beard, fingertips digging beneath the sea of wiry hairs to scratch away at a sudden itch. There was no way he could allow the angel to move things around his shop to make a clear way for a series of fumbling baboons to run in and out of his shop. For one thing, he had just gotten the shelves organized and placed to his liking and he wasn't due for an inventory count for another 10 years. There was the other factor of having an angel touch the books that could be potentially harmful to him if he wasn't careful. That would surely gather heaven's attention if an angel were to suddenly be harmed or destroyed within his dwellings. 

"I'm getting myself a glass of wine," he announced to no one in particular before scurrying off and away from the angel as he discussed moving dates and rates with the person on the other end of the line. 

He travelled to the very back of the shop and tapped a false door with the ram's head thrice, causing it to slide open on command like some eccentric posh attraction, opening to a flight of stairs descending into a deep darkness that swallowed each step from sight. The novelty of it would normally amuse him but he was not in the mood for such atmosphere and knocked the side of the concrete wall with the ram's head, miracling the staircase to vanish and in its place a wine cellar welcomed him. Only two steps were necessary to reach the heart of the oak cabinet that held his most precious wines. A lighter mood struck him as he perused, lovingly touching each bottle's top with is fingers to reacquaint himself with their fine contents once more before settling on a Chateau Margeaux. Bottle in hand, he stepped out of the cellar and tapped the side of the sliding door once, hearing the door shut before making his way back to the angel and his silly ways. 

"Alright, thank you. Goodbye," Anthony hung up and let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders draped with an invisible weight and impending dread of the move to come. 

"All good news, I hope," Ezra emerged from the shadow of shelves, back into the warm glow of the oil lamp burning away at the top of his writing desk. A snap of fingers produced two wine glasses on the side table that sat between the desk and a small sofa, just as elegantly gaudy as his own attire and from the same era. In a fluid motion, he popped the cork of the bottle and poured himself a glass before glancing over at the angel and raised an eyebrow, "Unless drinking isn't one of your indulgences."

"No, no. I enjoy a glass of wine from time to time," Anthony smiled softly, thankful to have something to wash the sudden tension that had taken hold of his muscles. "As for the movers, well, it went as well as one could hope."

"All in the spirit of being human," Ezra mused, handing Anthony his glass. 

Anthony thanked the demon and swirled the dark liquid a few times before taking a sip. The bite of the liquor hitting his tongue and casting its intoxicating spell upon his taste buds, soon followed by the dry burn trickling down his throat and ending with a burst of warmth in his chest. 

"That-" he paused to marvel at what he had just experienced, eyes darting to Ezra's pleased expression as he sat at his desk, clutching his own drink between his soft palms. "That is an exquisite wine. I haven't tasted anything this fine in a long, long while."

"You speak as if you've lived your entire life as humble as a mortal man," Ezra swerved to and fro in his chair, bemused at the angel's reaction and discovering he quiet liked having his company despite only knowing him for half a day. "Surely, you've enjoyed the finer things this world has to offer. Why else would you be tied down to it if you didn't spoil yourself from time to time." 

"I do spoil myself, just not in ways you might see as treating one's self," Anthony replied though rather, sheepishly and took another sip from his glass. 

"Then I implore you to spoil yourself more as you see fit. My wealth is yours. Please, help yourself whenever the mood strikes you," Ezra smiled wide and raised his glass in good faith. 

Anthony fidgeted in his seat a bit, not sure how to take the demon's welcoming gestures and words of praise. "Oh, I don't want to impose. Just a place for me and my plants with a view of the night sky is all I need to be happy."

"Plants?" Ezra raised an eyebrow. "You grow plants? Not too many, I hope. Don't want water seeping through the floor and onto my books." 

"I'll be careful and make sure that doesn't happen," Anthony stammered, his ears flushing red with worry and concern that was until Ezra burst out laughing a deep, boisterous laugh.

"I'm only yanking your chain, my boy. Have a whole garden up there if you wish. I have enough spells and enchantments on my things to prevent any damage or harm coming to them. Not even thieves could rob me of my books. They'll just miraculously return to where they once laid a moment's notice." 

"About that," Anthony leaned in, clasping his glass delicately between his hands, "I couldn't help but notice the arrangement of the shelves and book stacks from above. The floorplans and placements looked similar to that of a sigil. Are you trying to keep something out or keep hidden?"

"How I lay my things about is my business and mine alone and you best respect that if you wish to remain here unscathed, angel," the demon growled, a dark shadow cast upon his brow as he lifted his glass to his lips. 

The ability for the demon to change tones so quickly unsettled Anthony; joyous one moment and threatening the next without a beat or warning between them. Was moving into a building with such a creature a wise thing to do? Perhaps not, but it was the best outcome if he wished to continue his life on earth. 

"About the movers," Anthony forced a smile, changing the subject to get on the demon's good side once more.

"What about the movers?" Ezra hissed, not please about this subject either but it was far too late to change topic once more. 

"Rather than move things around, I could just ask them to leave my things outside and bring them in myself one by one if you don't want your things touched. I understand. After all, you've been more than generous with your offer." 

The dark liquid vanished between his lips, his glass drained of every drop and hearing the angel out. "Nonsense," sighing with delight after finishing his drink. "You worry about the movers and the van, I'll handle things in here," he reached for the bottle to replenish his glass and slammed the bottle between them on the table, within reach if Anthony wished for another helping. "You may not like using magic but I am a glutton for the whimsical. "

******

Anthony had left early the next day, travelling on foot from Soho to Mayfair. Though the distance was short, the sheer number of plants had demanded the aid of a moving van. There was also the fact of London weather. Most of his plants were tropical or accustomed to warm climates. A sudden chill could spell certain death for some of the rarer specimens of his collection and handing out a few pounds for the service of a warm, covered van for a 5 minute's drive was better than saying farewell to his beloved companions. The move, though saddened, was a necessary one. The new landowner of the apartment complex had sold the building to a developer and it was due to be torn down and replaced with a shopping strip. The news broke the hearts of many families and patrons who had called the building home for years and though he had often found himself fantasizing about some miraculous event that ceased the sale or development plans resulting in the building being saved, it was not his place to intervene. The fact he had found the advert for the room for rent above the bookshop was a fortunate coincidence. Even ineffable if one dared to say. 

The van arrived and two burly, dirty men in their 40's arrived. They did not handle the plants with much care, at least in Anthony's view, causing everything to be far more stressful than it needed to be. The only things Anthony dared not let any of them touch were his series of telescopes, deciding it would be best to ensure the safety of the ancient glass, even if that meant watching his carefully wrapped star maps be flattened and bent at the bottom of banker boxes and pinched over the sides. Eventually, everything was packed inside and Anthony uncomfortably found himself wedged between the two men in the front seat of the van, the three of them driving the short distance to the bookshop. 

The two of them had drunk quite a bit of wine the previous night and when he had left the shop, everything had remained the same as when he first stepped foot. Would these blundering men be able to carry all his precious plants and valuables through the winding maze of grimoires and dangerous books without making a mess of everything? Ezra had been so gracious and generous with his offer and patience already, he did not dare to test it further. There was no more time to fret over it further as the van pulled up to the bookshop with Ezra standing at the door, waving to them with a pleasant smile on his face. For some reason, that expression caused a great sense of dread in Anthony's belly. 

"Hello boys," the demon greeted the movers and approached them, looking just as elegant as always and sporting his well-polished cane. 

"You didn't have to meet us out here," Anthony said, hopping out of the van once movers left the cab and made their way to the back to open the hatch. "Did you clear a path for them?"

"Not quite," Ezra murmured just as one of the men approached him with a large peace lily in hand. "Just through here?" he asked, nudging his head in the direction of the front door.   
"Yes, just put everything inside in the foyer. Nothing farther than that. My friend and I will move everything upstairs in due time." 

"The foyer? You mean that small clearing between the door and the rest of your things? I don't think that's going to be enough room for even half of my plants," Anthony exclaimed, worried sick that the cluster of plants and books would be far too much to even allow space for a mouse to freely move between them. "Oh, my dear boy," Ezra grinned, walking towards the door to open it for the first mover, "I think you have grossly underestimated how much room there is." The door swung open and Anthony's mouth hung open in surprise. The entirety of the shop was still present but the inside was far deeper and larger than he had recalled from the day before, leaving a vast clearing for Anthony's things to be placed inside without disturbing a single book or speck of dust that did not belong to him. One by one, the men moved each potted plant and box into the expanded foyer, thinking nothing of how the laws of physics had been broken to make it all possible. At last, the final box was set down and Anthony paid the men for their services, seeing them out the door. 

"That's quite the collection you have here, angel," Ezra mused, feeling the humidity build up in the air. "Are you trying to recreate 'the garden'?" 

"You have your business, I have mine," Anthony remarked, bending down and retrieving an ancient telescope from one of the many boxes. Its brass body shone brightly even in the darkness of the shop, well used and well-loved. "I guess it's time I start hauling everything up the stairs," the angel sighed heavily, not looking forward to the task at hand. 

"Really Now," Ezra shook his head and snapped his fingers. The room emptied and the vast foyer they were once in shrunk back down to is original small clearing. "It's a simple as that, angel. Now everything is upstairs in your flat. You know, it was cute when you wanted to move in using movers and all that but I'm starting to think your reluctance of using miracles may be just another one of those 'matters of business' we've both decided to keep to ourselves." 

Anthony glared at the demon, the comment striking a deep nerve. "I had promised no angelic interference and my miracles are angelic." 

"Ah, that you did," Ezra tilted his head. "Would you like to invite me into your flat or would you prefer to set things about to your taste?"

"I think I'd like some time to myself if you don't mind. As I've just moved house, I have a lot to unpack," Anthony held back his bite, still reeling from the backhanded comment regarding his reluctance of using miracles as if they were created to be used at one's disposal. 

"I'll wait then. No rush. And when you do invite me, I'll bring another bottle of that wine you enjoyed so much last night." Ezra turned his back and began to walk away from Anthony, seemingly acting as if he had more pressing and important things to do. "Welcome home, angel. I think this is going to be the beginning of a fine and wonderful friendship."


	3. The Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony finds inspiration for his flat and talks of gardens past reveals the story of Ezra's fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All plants in this chapter are have been referenced by their Latin/Scientific name. I encourage you to look them up for they are all absolutely beautiful.

It was just as Ezra had said; all his things had miraculously appeared in his flat, sporadically placed everywhere with no rhyme or reason. It would have been too much to expect the room to be decorated how he could imagine it looking. Even Anthony didn't know how he wanted to arrange the plants and multiple telescopes throughout the space but he was sure of one thing, it was going to take a generous amount of time before he would be satisfied with the final result. 

Now, should he start with the palms, the ferns, flowering or potted trees? The hanging baskets were something to consider as well. Should he hang them first or leave them to the end? He never minded changing house over the course of his life but it was always the rearranging of his garden that caused the most stress. In his flat in Mayfair, he took inspiration from the Jardin Majorelle, in Morocco, after accumulating a wide variety of palms after being sick with nostalgia during one exceptionally cold and long winter. Winters in England would always make him long for the warm, Egyptian sun and his time spent mentoring the young pharaohs before their rise to the throne. It all with the coming of Moses of course. It was too dangerous for him to remain within the kingdom with forthcoming events that would take place within 30 years' time. Most of all, he could not stomach the place any longer after the slaughtering of the innocence and fled to Constantinople. In hindsight, he should have chosen elsewhere but how was he to know the 13th century would be ripe with change and turmoil. 

Anthony would need a new garden to inspire him before any plants were to be moved into place. It had been a long time since he had so much window space and natural light to work with, so he needed a garden that would naturally enhance what the flat provided. He moved through the dense fog of foliage, in search for one of the many boxes. Unlike Ezra with his collection of countless books, Anthony only possessed a few and on two very specific subjects; garden landscapes and astronomy. At last, he found the first stack of boxes and scanned the marked covers, each labelled with what it contained, reading each aloud to himself, "Star maps, miniature brass telescopes, medium brass telescopes, 17th-century telescope: dismantled, ah, books." He lifted the boxes off of its lid and gently pulled away the cardboard top, revealing the neatly packed row of books. He clicked his tongue while his eyes scanned the names written on each book's spine, searching for a few specific titles. Books in hand, he pushed the large potted Chamaerops to the side, leaving enough space for him to sit and flip through the pages in search of inspiration. 

~~~~~~~  
It was unusually quiet for a flat that was supposed to be undergoing rearrangement with many large, heavy ceramic pots. Only once had he heard the scrape of wood across the floor from below and not another sound since. Though it was none of his business and he had promised to give the angel his space, the lack of activity bothered him nonetheless. A much-needed distraction was in order and Ezra decided to turn to his writing desk and retrieve a small, black leather journal from its side drawer. There were some books he had decided he missed and would like returned. 

~~~~~~~~  
Nightfall came unceremoniously. Anthony let out an exhausted sigh and tossed another book aside, unhappy with the photos of world-renowned gardens, masterful examples of landscaping and lush properties bursting in color. All for naught his search for inspiration had been, collapsing to the floor in utter defeat, wedged between a juvenile Butea monosperma and a pot containing various plants originating from Israel. He was at a complete loss. For the first time in centuries, he could not entice the slightest spark of inspiration and without that drive, he had no energy to even start moving his botanical collection into place. He had wasted the day examining them all; Gardens of Versailles, Keukenhof Gardens, NongNooch Pattaya.. all of them beautiful and stunning in their own right but lacking something suitable for a flat such as this. As he lay on the ground, facing the ceiling in defeat and slowly closed his eyes from the bright light of the moon. As he opened his eyes, a bright glow caught his attention and he turned to see the blooming arrangement of various flowering Corcus, aglow in the moonlight, their white petals capturing the delicate light effortlessly. Anthony raised himself from the floor, captivated by the wondrous view and began scanning his surroundings. The flat not only allowed large amounts of sunlight in but at night, when the moon was brightest, washed every petal and leaf in its silver glow. Dull greens and waxy stems radiated like polished jewelry and muted colours sang like never before but it wasn't until his eyes fell upon the hanging vines of a Cocculus pendulus, did his heart swell with joy. The dry, desert vine, so easily overlooked in the daytime, sparkled as if it was covered in a fine dew beneath the moonlight. The fine hairs of its leaves captured each ray of light brilliantly and the bright white vines that twisted and curled looked more like the delicate work of a silversmith than of a living, growing plant. Anthony leapt to his feet, eyes wide with wonder and bright with determination.  
~~~~~~~

"It's like it just vanishes whenever I'm not paying enough attention to it," the woman at the counter exclaimed, her red hair wound into a halo of tight curls. Her large, bright eyes were weighed down by a heavy-handed application of blue eyeshadow and far too much blush on her sharp cheekbones attenuated her age more than complimenting it.  
"Now now, Miss Tracy," Ezra cooed, gently patting the older woman's hand in a gesture of comfort that imitated kinship, "of course such a thing never happens. Books are not sentient things and it's more likely a case of simply misplacing it somewhere or one of your clientele snatched up such a fine, rare and valuable book right from under your nose! The gull of those kinds of people after you've put so much time and effort to share your natural-born gifts to them." 

"Oh Ezra, you've always had a way with words. A marvel that you haven't found someone to fond over the way you do over me," she batted her false eyelashes at him in a coy manner. 

"Until then, allow me the pleasure to treat you like the fair maiden you are," the demon played along and patted her hand once more before a loud dragging sound from above interrupted them.

"Rats?" Miss Tracy asked, worried about a possible infestation.

"No," Ezra smiled, reassuring her with a gentleman's grin, "I had hired some help. My inventory has become far too large for me to take care of and run the shop at the same time. Now, luckily for you, I just so happen to have another copy of Clairvoyance and Occult Powers by Swami Panchadasi," he chirped, as he reached down under the counter. "This one is exceedingly rare; 1916, first edition." He placed the book on the countertop and Miss Tracy marveled at it, in awe that such an exquisite book, was being offered to her. "Oh Mr. Ezra, that's very kind of you but I can't afford this. I mean, it looks very similar to the last two I had lost but I can assure you, this will be out of my price range."

"Consider it a gift, Miss Tracy, and in return, promise me you'll keep it locked away from any thieving clients," Ezra spoke softly to her, pushing the exceedingly rare book towards her. 

Gob smacked, the older woman went to refuse the more than generous gift but the way the old bookshop owner looked at her, how could she say no. "I-I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Ezra. I know. Allow me to entertain you for an evening, hm?" 

"Miss Tracy-"

"Madam Tracy."

Ezra grinned and looked down momentarily, "Madam Tracy, it would be an honor to be served by you." He took her hand once more and kissed it. The older woman blushed and retreated, leaving the shop with a book in hand and a smile planted firmly across her face. 

It was only after the sound of the bell died off did a voice from above announce its presence.  
"You sly dog," Anthony chuckled from the second-floor landing, leaning on the old wrought iron railing. "So, what? You sell your antique books and wait long enough to magically summon them back to your shop so you can sell them over again? Wow... that's certainly a way to keep clients coming back," he teased.

"I'd have you know, I've yet to be sniffed out. And I would prefer to be seen as a wolf in sheep's clothing if you must compare me to any beast," Ezra huffed, straightening his cravat and turning his head away to hide the blush of embarrassment from the angel's gaze. Had the bastard been watching the entire time?

"Explains all the iconography," Anthony commented, specifically eyeing the demon's rams' head cane. "Speaking of which, how is it you can work so closely to humans and not have any of them comment on your unnatural eyes? Some sob story perhaps?" he shrugged.

"A little glamour can go a long ways, angel. People will see what they want to see. For instance, Miss Tracy sees them as a warm, mahogany brown. Whereas the less trustworthy will see them as a cold grey or ice blue. Far easier than hiding behind a pair of glasses all day."

Anthony's brows twisted at the snide remark and adjusted his glasses in the process. "To each their own, I suppose."  
"Are you moving in alright? By the sounds of it, you've been keeping yourself rather busy for the best part of a week," Ezra walked over to his writing desk, reaching for the black, leather-bound journal that laid open and jotted something down with a quill before returning it to its decorative inkwell. "I was starting to worry if you had forgotten to invite me in so I may bring a housewarming gift."

"I haven't forgotten," Anthony stood straight, slender hands gripping the railing. "In fact, that's precisely why I've emerged just now. Should I wait until you've finished for the day?"

"What a coincidence," Ezra snapped his finger, the sign on the window suddenly turning in a gust of wind and deadbolt on the door thundered shut. "I was just about to close shop. Allow me to fetch a bottle of wine from my cellar."

Anthony couldn't help but softly laugh at the demon's gesture and childlike excitement over something so trivial and absurd as being invited into a room that resided within his own building. "I've got my own, collection we can drink from," Anthony leaned over the railing, eyes bright with glee. 

The demon pouted, "What guest doesn't bring a gift to a housewarming party?"

"Consider yourself the gift and get your arse up here," Anthony slapped the iron railing and darted into his flat, wanting to be there to greet the demon when he arrived. 

Ezra remained where he was momentarily, unable to name the feeling that swelled within his chest at the angel's comment. It had been a long time since someone considered his presence as a gift. If this was to be the nature of their relationship, then he would just have to get used to it. 

Methodically, he made his way up the spiraling staircase, inching ever close to the flat above, curious to see what had kept the angel so busy these past few days. The door remained open and by what he said through the threshold, it seemed he would be stepping into a lush jungle rather than a flat in Soho. Anthony stood within his line of sight, eagerly waiting for his arrival and he allowed himself to genuinely smile.  
As he stepped through the door, the humidity hit him as if the air was made of solid matter. The room was alive with plans of all shapes, sizes, colours and textures; a plethora of life in utter contrast to the dim, dead and dull environment he had made for himself down below. “Well,” he stood, both hands planted firmly on the handle of his cane, “you certainly have given this place a breath of life, angel. I’m impressed. I just might start telling my clientele I’ve renovated the upstairs into an apothecary if you’re willing to provide the ingredients.”

Anthony crossed his arms, a breathy chuckle jolted his chest as he watched Ezra make his way around his pride and joy, inspecting each plant. “You’re real funny,” the angel commented with a sardonic tone. He knew Ezra wouldn’t do such a thing without his permission but couldn’t help to entertain the thought in jest.

Hidden amongst the plants that boarded window-lined walls, glimpses of brass shone in the sunlight, revealing a small, yet still impressive collection of telescopes. The larger ones stood on their stands while the more compact ones rested on windowsills like decorative pieces. "Botany and Astronomy," he shook his head and turned his gaze to the star maps that hung on the walls all around. "It seems you have the heavens and the earth covered in your interests. What of down below?"

"I'll let you keep that," Anthony followed, a hand reaching out to gently caress the waxy leaves of a Hoya carnosa. "Some of these I've had for many years and have been with me as I've travelled across the earth. Sadly, I've had to start anew with most of them. Seedlings are very particular and can be absolutely nerve-wracking."

“And the stars?” 

“A comfort,” Anthony replied, his words hiding a deep longing for something out of his reach. 

Sensing it, Ezra did not press the issue further. In silence, he looked around and marveled at all the angel had managed to accomplish. "I see you've also utilized the ceiling for your hanging baskets. I might want to call this place the next Hanging Garden of Babylon just by the sheer number of them."

“That was actually my inspiration,” Anthony approached, a light blush kissing his cheeks. 

“Is that so? Unless you were there, I don’t think there are any accurate images of it.”

“Oh I was not only there, but I helped create it.”

Ezra’s head snapped towards Anthony, mesmerized by the sly grin and air of pride that radiated off of him. “Well… we have a celebrity in our midst.”

“You should see it at night. It absolutely glows much like the real garden did.”

“Sounds like a date,” Ezra teased, much to Anthony’s annoyance. 

“That wasn’t an invitation for a date,” the angel corrected.

“Sure sounded like one.”

Exasperated, Anthony turned his head, irritated with the demon and his habit for turning everything into some kind of joke or game. “I wouldn’t expect you to fully appreciate something like a garden anyways unless you could spin it around into some cash grab scheme like you do with your enchanted books.”

“When you’ve once watched over the epitome that was Eden, it’s hard to be impressed by any collection of plants,” Ezra stated, his voice soft and nostalgic. 

Anthony’s breath caught in his throat, eyes snapping wide as he slowly turned his attention back to the demon, who had a loose vine entwined gently between his fingers, lovingly inspecting the delicate leaves. “You,” a wistful breath passed his lips, “you were at the garden?”

“I wasn’t just there, angel. I was its Watcher. A Principality instructed to watch over Man and stationed at the Eastern Gate.”

“But you’re a demon. How can-“

“I wasn’t always a demon,” Ezra chuckled, leaving the vine unharmed from his grasp. “I fell much later than the rest. I fell after the War.”

A light went off in Anthony’s eyes, seemingly connecting Ezra’s presence in the Garden and the time of his fall, “You tempted Eve.”

A boisterous laugh followed the angel's accusation, the demon finding it both entertaining and humorous. "Oh no. Nothing of that sort. The tales are false about her being tempted by some wily serpent. There just so happened to be a tree boa present when she took that fateful bite. No, she and I are both guilty of the same thing. Curiosity."

“Curiosity?”

“Of course, my dear boy!” Ezra approached him, arms wide in triumphant exuberance. “The very thing that drives man to do both great and horrible things. If some thunderous voice tells you not to take a bite out of a fruit and claims it forbidden, wouldn’t you want to know what all the fuss is about?”

“So you took a bite out of the forbidden fruit because you were curious,” Anthony said, wrapping his head around it all. “And then, what? Poof. You were a demon?”

Taking a deep breath, Ezra deflated upon exhale, taking with it the joyous energy that had been there only moments before. "It was Lucifer. He had made an exception to turn me into a demon after Gabriel shattered my halo as punishment. I was rewarded for inspiring Eve to taste the forbidden fruit herself.” 

"And did you ever travel to hell?" Anthony inquired, in awe of Ezra's wiliness to reveal his traumatic past to an angel that was still a complete stranger to him.

The demon lowered his eyes and nodded his head slightly, though it was unsure whether he was answering the angel’s question or deciding to change the subject. “I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Ezra softly announced, tapping the bottom of his cane against the floor. “I’m sure you’ll want to bask in your wondrous creation. Until tomorrow, angel.” 

Without another word, Ezra left the flat and closed the door behind him, leaving Anthony alone in his flat, heart aching for the fallen angel.


	4. Good Company

A thunderous pounding burst through the small flat that belonged to Madam Tracy, Delicate glassware rattled on their shelves, threatening to fall off and shatter at a moment’s notice. “Coming,” she shouted over the banging as she hurried through the room as she wrapped a sheer housecoat tightly around her thin frame. Whoever was on the other end of that door did not let up, pounding until the door flew open to reveal the culprit.  
Madam Tracy put on her best face, recognizing the glare and look of utter disapproval that welcomed her, “Mr. Shadwell. It’s always good to see you.”

“Hold your tongue, Jessabelle,” the old bloke hollered with a snarl. “That sweet talk won’t get past my defenses.”

“Of course not,” she smiled sweetly at him and stepped aside to let him in. As obtuse as he was, he still had the manners to wait for permission before entering the flat. “I know where you went yesterday,” Shadwell growled, his feet stomping across the hardwood floor until his dirtied boots were muffled by an imitation Persian rug. In his soiled raincoat and brown attire, he looked sorely out of place amongst all the fine tea sets, crushed pink velvet and various occult objects scattered around her reading room. Used to his eccentricities, Madam Tracy had already made her way to the kitchen to put on the kettle. “I went out for a bit of shopping,” she called out, filling one cup with seven generous helpings of sugar.

“Not just any shopping,” Shadwell howled, “you went to see that witch again, didn’t you?”

“Mr. Ezra?” her voice chirping over the high-pitched whistle of the kettle. “I did actually. I had misplaced a book and he just so happened to have the exact one I had lost.” With a skip in her step, she entered the reading room with a tray between her hands. On it sat two cups of hot tea and a teapot, all members of different sets.

“How dastardly blind do you need to be?” Shadwell shook his head at her, watching her put the tray down on the table, next to a crystal ball and handing him a cup.

“Seven-“

“Seven sugars. Just as you like it.”

“Aye,” he nodded and took a sip, taking a rare moment of peace to enjoy the heat in his hands and make its way down his chest.

His eyes scanned the room, falling upon the contents of the table. Aside from the tea tray, everything else were materials he had developed a disliking for. “What was it you stopped in to see that Southern Pansy about, anyways?” He asked, picking up an antique book and inspecting the cover.

“That,” Madam Tracy pointed to the book in Shadwell’s grasp. “I had misplaced my copy again and Mr. Ezra was so kind to give me that. All I had to do was promise to lock it away whenever I had clients over so they wouldn’t steal it a third time.”

The news fueled the fires of rage once more. He raised his hand to slam the book to the ground in a fit of anger but instead held it above his head and shook it until the need to defile it subsided. He didn’t want to physically damage anything belonging to her. “That’s what I’m talking about, you daft woman! The man is a witch! How do you expect him to have the exact same book in stock every time it needs replacing? He’s bewitched it.”

“Mr. Shadwell,” Madam Tracy smiled and took the book from him with ease, meeting his snarl with a cheery demeaner. “Why would he do such a thing, if he could. As I said, he gave this to me without asking for payment. He insisted I take it.”

“Aye!” Shadwell exclaimed, throwing his hand in the air in frustration though still careful not to spill a drop of tea. “He’s playing you the fool. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. That’s what he is.”

As he shouted about, Madam Tracy walked over to her display cabinet and lovingly placed the book inside.

The only thing keeping the darkness brought on by nightfall at bay was the gentle glow coming from the oil lamp placed atop Ezra’s writing desk. He sat there, enjoying a glass of wine as he fingered the pages of an ancient book, lost in his reading but still aware of his surroundings.

A bottle of merlot and a small pot blooming with flowers that ranged from metallic blue to a near black was placed beside each other on the table that separated the writing desk from the sofa. The bringer of these gifts stood silently, waiting for recognition.

“This is unexpected,” Ezra said, not once looking up from his book, finishing the page and placing a loose piece of paper to mark his place. His lilac, goat eyes looked up at his guest and he put on his best smile, “normally, it’s me who arrives with gifts.”

“And you’ve been more than generous,” Anthony replied, his voice low as he did his best to meet Ezra’s smile with one of his own but an underlying guilt tainted it. “I wanted to apologize-“

“For what?” Ezra interrupted only to be met with Anthony’s raised hand.

“Let me finish, please,” Anthony exhaled and took a moment to collect himself. “You have been more than kind to me since we’ve met. I almost feel as if the roles we inhabit have been turned on their heads. You’ve been so open about, well, everything. Your hospitality, your offerings, your life… and I’ve yet to even come close to reciprocating it.”

Ezra listened intently, seeing how uncomfortable Anthony was. He was right though. The angel never even offered to tell him his name until they were about to seal the deal of their living arrangement. That wasn’t to say Ezra hadn’t entertained himself with fantastical ideas about who Anthony was. Every little thing about Anthony was a piece of the bigger picture and it was fun to watch the pages unfold; his interest in the astronomy, his connection to plants, aversion to using miracles and the use of a human name. It was all adding up to something very intriguing.

“That’s not completely true, angel,” Ezra leaned back in his chair, swirling his glass of wine in his hand. “I may not know who you are, but I do know one thing. You’re in hiding.”

Anthony nodded and sat down on the sofa, “I’m sure you’re curious about that.”

“If I was, I would have asked you already,” Ezra paused to take a sip of wine and snap his fingers, miracling a glass for Anthony to appear upon the table. The bottle of merlot had miraculously been opened and both of their glasses had been filled. “I accept your peace offering. It’s a very good year.”

“I’m glad you like it. I also brought you flowers. Something to liven up the place a bit. They’re called Hellebores.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow to the name to which Anthony chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t choose them because of their name. They thrive in the shade and the colour reminded me of you.” A soft blush painted his cheeks and watched Ezra’s expression change from skeptical to honored. “They-they don’t need much care. A very good beginner’s plant. Just be sure to water them when the soil feels dry.”

A beat passed between them before Ezra leaned forward and took the potted plant in his hand, inspecting its spotless leaves and the underlining metallic nature of the petals that made them glow in the dim light. His entire demeanor softened, touched by the simple offering. “No one’s ever given me flowers before. Thank you, Anthony. I’ll cherish them.”

“I’ll let you ask one question,” Anthony spoke. It took a lot for him to let anyone know anything about him. It had become a habit of his for the past six thousand years but one he was willing to break for Ezra.

“Any question?” Ezra questioned, the offering piquing his interest to such a high degree and produced a mishcevious grin.

The look made Anthony's face drop. His heart raced, a sweat of panic washing over him. He thought about putting down guidelines, restrictions and limiting as to what the question could entail but every time he did, he kept thinking about Ezra recalling story about his fall. That could not have been an easy thing to tell. Anthony closed his eyes and threw his head back, draining his glass in an instant. “Ask away.”

“What…”

Here it comes. Six thousand years of keeping a low profile all to be revealed to a demon.

“…is your favourite food?”

“Excuse me?” Anthony blinked, flabbergasted.

“I’ve always wanted to go to The Ritz but saw it silly to go alone. A place that luxurious needs to be shared with good company,” Ezra continued, not bothered by Anthony’s reaction.

“I…” the angel stammered, failing to collect himself. “I’ve never had much of an interest in food.”

“Well my dear boy, let’s start tonight,” Ezra leaped to his feet and gently placed the potted plant at the top of his writing desk, opposite to the oil lamp. “A table for two just miraculously became available.”

“Wait,” Anthony reached out, hands flat against the air as he shook his head. “That’s what you want to ask me? Nothing else?”

“Angel. Anthony,” Ezra corrected himself. “I have lived amongst humans long enough to know when someone is forcing themselves to do something. When you are ready to tell me about yourself, it will happen. Until then, don’t think you owe me or anyone anything. Now,” he smiled down at the angel, collecting his cane, “if we want to make that reservation, I suggest we leave now.”

For the first time, he felt like he could truly be comfortable in the presence of another. No hiding what he was and Ezra’s interest in him went no further than what he was willing to tell him when he was ready to. The demon simply enjoyed his company and he could reciprocate that. With a smile, Anthony stood up.

“Lead the way.”


	5. The Threat of Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony and Ezra start to find a few traits about the other they admire and secretly adore. Then Anthony decides to let Ezra in on a secret he's been keeping for 6000 years.

Anthony had discovered two things that night at The Ritz.

After 6000 years of pretending to be human, he still couldn't force himself to partake in actually eating anything. Perhaps it was the gnashing of food in his mouth or the feeling of something making its way down his throat to lay heavy in his stomach that turned him off to the idea all together. But that brought on his second discovery; he enjoyed watching Ezra eat. Not the physical workings of actually consuming food but how delighted and excited he got when each dish arrived. The demon would take a moment to lose himself in each dish’s taste, texture and perfectly describe it to Anthony, who sat nursing a single glass of wine. Through the demon’s expressions and words, Anthony could live through the experience of sinking his teeth into a finely poached fillet of mackerel, the aroma of a delicate soup garnished with fresh herbs or the dense meatiness of a piece of perfectly prepared Cornish game hen dressed in butter and pepper. It was the dessert course that pleased him the most, discovering the demon possessed quite the sweet tooth and would often take the first bite and make some sort of exalted or exaggerated sound of pure delight. The angel was so entertained by the show that Ezra would put on, it was easily becoming Anthony's guilty pleasure. Within their first month of living together, Anthony would often suggest the two of them go out for dinner, leaving the destination up to Ezra.

It wasn't long after their first dinner at The Ritz that Anthony started to come down from his flat more often, actively seeking out the demon and asking if there was anything he could do around the shop. As grateful for the offer, Ezra wouldn't dare let the angel touch any of the dusty tomes. Not that he didn't trust him, but it was more the fact that many of the books that needed to be categorized and moved about possessed dark magic. Not a safe thing to touch without the assistance of a sturdy miracle. So each time, he would tell the angel no and Anthony's shoulders would sag with disappointment before retreating back to his flat. This couldn't go on much longer so Ezra started to look for menial tasks where he wouldn't have to worry about the angel's well being. A simple dusting here and there or getting rid of the spots that had collected on the windows. Small favors that Anthony was more than happy to do if it meant being around the demon more.

It was one of these days when Ezra had suggested he take a damp cloth and dust the old, wooden furniture scattered around the shop Anthony discovered the old Edwardian display cabinet hiding in the back. In it held many old books. The rarest he had ever seen and didn't quite fit right with the rest of the tomes for sale. For starters, they weren't grimoires or books on the occult at all but rather first editions of plays, poetry, novels and manuals. Peeking through the glass, he could see the names of Shakespeare, Da Vinci, TS Elliot and other famous humans throughout time. Valuable in their own right but Anthony could tell they were something much more as hinted by one very curious object that rested atop the cabinet; the Hellebore he had gifted the demon weeks before. Perhaps he'll ask Ezra the nature of this curious cabinet but for today, he would show it a bit of care with a good dusting.  
Then one afternoon, as Anthony made his way down the stairs, he was met by the sight of the demon standing at the bottom, as if waiting for his arrival. 

"Good afternoon, Anthony," he greeted the angel. 

"What's this?" Anthony questioned, a small smile gracing his lips as he looked Ezra up and down suspiciously. "You don't normally wait for me like this."

"I don't? Perhaps I should," he teased. "I was actually thinking about closing shop for the day. Would you care to talk a stroll with me through Kew Gardens?" 

The suggestion caught Anthony off guard and he couldn't help but softly laugh. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion. Unless you want there to be one."

"Is this because I've become an impromptu partner whenever you wish to try a new restaurant and you feel obligated to return the favour?"

A flush of pink coloured Ezra's cheeks and the tips of his ears momentarily, shaking his head at the inclination. "I'm a demon!" he reassured him. "I don't have an obligation to do anything least I feel like it."

Anthony laughed softly and joined Ezra on the ground floor, looking down at him with a rare, genuine smile. "I think there's a nursery there as well. I've always wanted to find an excuse to visit and pick up some new plants."

The small confession caught Ezra's attention and quickly washed away the blush from his skin, "I didn't think you'd need an excuse to visit a garden, angel."

"It can be lonely. More so when you're out in public but I don't have to worry about that anymore."

The silence between them hung for a moment, thicker than it had ever been since they first met. It wasn't like Anthony to reveal something so vulnerable and Ezra didn't want to comment least he offend the angel in some way. Anthony was such a closed book and Ezra feared that anything could cause the angel to shut down once more, not knowing when he would get the chance to see this side of him again.

"Shall we go then?" Anthony chirped, his shoulder gently brushing against Ezra as he made his way towards the door. The blush that had only tickled the demon's face earlier returned with a heavier dose of color as he followed close behind. 

~~~~~~~~

Ezra had planned the trip without flare of flattery. He had taken the time to learn the bus routes and schedules for a worry free trip to Kew Gardens and without the aid of miracles. The angel had no qualms about the demon using miracles as freely as he liked, but since it was the angel who would be the benefiting from such magic, Ezra had made the conscious decision to avoid them all together. Besides, it had been a very long time since he had used human modes of transportation and the last time he had rode in an automobile carriage had been not long after Henry Ford unveiled his creation.

The forecast had called for rain all afternoon but the rain only seemed to fall in places they had yet to visit or already passed through. It was especially noticeable in the rock garden where the dry landscape made the small and delicate flowers really pop, decorating each leaf and petal with a pearl of water. The only time the rain caught up to them was when they were safely indoors observing the rare specimens of the Princess of Wales Conservatory. Never had Anthony seen such a diversity of plant life in one place before. All the gardens he had helped create throughout history were restricted to the climate but this was a marvel he could only dream of. Within feet of each other, he could stand in awe at the exquisite display of colour from a flowering Bird of Paradise of subtropical South Africa before entering the arid atmosphere that allow the rare Myrtillocactus geometrizans cristata to thrive. Anthony marveled at them all, excitedly sharing his profound knowledge of the lesser known plants with Ezra, who for the most part had focused more on Anthony than the plants themselves. Never had he seen the angel look so vibrant and full of life in the short time they had known each other. If Anthony wanted to spread their afternoons walking through parks and gardens, then Ezra would be more than happy to oblige just to see the light shine in his golden eyes.

It was when they had travelled partway across the Lake and Sackler Crossing, they paused once more to take in the scenery. The rain had wandered off elsewhere in the gardens, leaving the two of them dry and alone with only the sounds of the wind rustling through the tall reeds and grass and ducks wading in the waters below. "Well," Ezra took in the surrounding grasses growing along the water's edge, "you certainly have taught me a thing or two about plants. I'd fail you surely if I let that little gift of your die on me from neglect. I fear I'll never hear the end of it," he laughed. Anthony's arms hung over the edge of the bridge, looking down at his reflection in a disturbing quiet that caught Ezra's attention. "Is something the matter?" he questioned, though unsure if he was allowed to even ask such a thing. 

"I've just been thinking," Anthony replied, his voice low and solemn, watching a duck split his reflection in two as it swam bye. Ezra waited patiently for Anthony to follow up but nothing more was said. Only the pattering of rain in the distance filled the silence. They ended their visit with Anthony picking up a few Iris and Lilly bulbs from the nursery, neither one of them revisiting what was said on the crossing during their trip back to the shop. Only a stolen glance from Ezra watching Anthony stare out the window of the bus as he clutched his newly acquired treasures closely.

~~~~~~~~

The soft click of the door shutting behind them greeted Ezra and Anthony home. The rain had finally caught up with them, leaving them drenched but thanks to Ezra's magic that prevented any water from getting near his books, not a droplet of water ever made its mark on the old, wooden floor 

"That was a lovely gesture," Anthony finally spoke since the crossing. "I enjoyed it. I guess I should be heading back up. These bulbs will need good soil and water if they're to grow. Goodnight Ezra."

Just as Anthony turned to head upstairs, Ezra voice caught him in mid step, forcing him to stop.

"What were you thinking about on the crossing?" He finally asked. They were home now so if Anthony wanted to flee into his flat, he could. "You looked disturbed when you said it and I didn't want to press you when you said nothing. It wouldn't have been fair especially out in public like that. I know you like your privacy and I-"

"It's alright," Anthony interrupted, slowly turning from his spot on the stairs. Letting out a heavy and sliding off his glasses at the same time. "I was thinking about what you told me in my flat. About your fall from grace and I was thinking how it's unfair that I not share my story after hearing yours."

"Angel," Ezra huffed, trying his best to act uninterested. "We've discussed this. You don't owe me anything."

"I owe it to myself," Anthony rebutted, hanging his bag of purchased bulbs on the raised handle of the railing. "I've been quiet about it for too long. Mostly because I had no one to talk to about it. I haven't talked to anyone as much as I've talked with you these last few weeks than I have in a millennia." Anthony took a step down and sat on the stairs, hands clasped and hanging between his knobby knees. 

Ezra stood, waiting for Anthony to gather to the courage to talk about his own trauma. Rain pelted the walls and windows of the shop, the sound filling every space between them and hidden within the shop. 

Anthony took a deep breath and adjusted in his seat, his mouth opening and shutting few times before any real words finally came out. It was obvious he was very uncomfortable and unsure where or how to start his story. A virgin confession. "It was just when war was declared amongst the angels," his voice quivered and died off just as soon as he began to talk. Ezra met his hesitation with patience, never once encouraging him to continue or forcing him to hurry it up. This was important to Anthony and he wanted to respect the angel's decision. "Every single one of us was forced to choose a side," Anthony continued, "and there was no alternative. You were either for GOD or against HER." His hands started to tremble. "I stated my allegiance with HER of course but that wasn't to say I was looking forward to slaying my fellow brothers and sisters. I mean - how can you be asked to do such a thing?" The pitch in his voice was getting higher, more agitated and louder and an obvious pain emerged on his face. "To choose a side and look upon the face of your fellow siblings as if you never knew them and strike them down? I never understood how Gabriel and the others could turn against them so quickly. There was no trial, no discussion of opinions just family one moment and enemy the next." He paused, raising his hands to his mouth to hide his trembling lip. Golden eyes burned with tears that threatened to fall at a moment's notice. "The day came when we had to take arms against Lucifer and the others and I..." Anthony choked. The words lodged tight in his throat and his body wrought so tightly, it began to shake. "I ran away."

"You what?" Ezra gasped.

"I ran away," Anthony shouted, his face twisted in guilt and tears welling in his golden eyes. "I couldn't do it. I didn't have the heart to strike any of them down." He took a moment to take in a deep breath in a desperate attempt to compose himself as he focused his attention away from Ezra. He blinked rapidly. Tears fell from his eyes, never once touching the ground and leaving the dust in tact. 

"I've been hiding ever since," he let out a shaky breath, his nerves wrecked with such fright. "No miracles. Nothing to alert Heaven where I am or where I have been all this time. It they were so willing to strike Lucifer and the others down for a matter of opinion, I can't imagine what they would do to a defector."

"I'm aware of their 'kindness'," Ezra hissed, thinking of his own punishment. He stood there, watching Anthony curl into himself. The angel was focusing on his breathing, trying his best to calm himself from recounting the trauma of the war. Though he did not fight, the decision to flee his home and family could not have been a simple one. How long had he been holding onto such a secret, the demon wondered and kept his distance until he felt enough time had passed for the angel to come down from his anxious state. Slowly he made his way over to Anthony and offered him his hand. "It's ok," he softly spoke. Anthony's head shot up, face flushed red and eyes wet with tears. He stared at Ezra's hand for a moment before looking up and meeting the demon's eyes. 

"I'll keep you hidden," Ezra continued. "Stay here as long as you'd like. I won't go ratting to anyone. You're in luck, actually. I quite despise angels and demons alike. Not you though," he smiled, reassuring him. "I like you. You're kinder." 

Anthony swallowed thickly and took the demon's hand, lifting himself up from the step and taking another moment to collect his nerves. "Thank you," sniffed and mentally pushed his vulnerability down once more. "You're a good man, Ezra. What happened in the Garden should have never been done. Gabriel had no right to do that."

"It's all in the past," he replied and pulled his hand away. Honestly, he could have held the angel's hand for much longer but it was not his place to seek his own desires when Anthony so raw with emotion and unearthed trauma. "It's late, Angel. I think you should rest. It's been a long day."

Silently, Anthony collected his things and clutched the small plastic bag to his chest. "Goodnight, Ezra," he whispered, his voice still trembling. 

The demon watched the angel ascend the stairs before disappearing from sight with the click of the flat door closing joining the chorus of raindrops.


End file.
